“Are things still going okay with your ex-wife?” Arietta asked.
“She’s been a bit colder lately,” Jasper said. “My theory is that she started seeing someone after we broke up, and it didn’t work out.”
Arietta thought it had a ring of truth. “Dating. I can’t imagine doing it again!”
“I tried a bit in Europe, and it embarrassed me to no end.” Jasper laughed. “You should have seen me, trying to impress these Greek and Italian women. They thought I was an idiot.”
“I’m sure they did not.” Arietta smiled, grateful for Jasper’s voice in her ear.
“But I didn’t call you to complain about my love life,” Jasper said. “I called to complain about something else entirely. Namely, this article I’m supposed to be writing forScientific American Magazine. It’s supposed to cover everything we learned at the conference back in Athens, but I can’t seem to get my mind around it. Do you have time to take a crack at it?”
Arietta stood, letting her book fall with a clunk. “Oh, Jasper. I don’t know. I’m sure you’re close. You’re a brilliant journalist.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself right now,” Jasper said. “That’s something I felt you always had in spades. Confidence in your writing. Belief in that agile brain of yours.”
Arietta groaned. “I don’t know, Jasper. I haven’t, you know, written much. Since it happened.”
“But you’re not done writing,” Jasper said. “You can’t be done.”
Arietta walked to the railing and peered out across the water, watching as a sailboat struggled through the wind. Whoever was steering it was not experienced. She could see that in an instant. Fred had always been the most capable sailor she’d ever known.
“I’ll take a look at it,” she said. “Send me what you’ve started, and I’ll give it a go.”
She already knew she was going to regret it.
“That’s beautiful,” Jasper said. She could feel his smile through his voice. “You’re a brilliant writer, Arietta. You’re going to destroy everything I’ve already put down. I welcome that.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Jasper laughed. “Listen, I’m thinking of coming to Nantucket next week. A friend invited me to a party, and I figured I owed it to myself to get a little Nantucket sun. Would you like to meet up?”
At the thought of meeting up with someone who knew her so well, Arietta’s heart leaped. Jasper wouldn’t ever know about the blackmailer; he wouldn’t ever judge Arietta as harshly as the Salt Sisters probably were right now. Jasper and Arietta could pretend to be young and happy, with their entire careers ahead of them. While out with him, Arietta could pretend that Fred was at home, safe and still healthy, waiting for her to return.
Jasper sentArietta his notes and the beginnings of his article, and Arietta spent the next hour in the sunshine, reading everything and trying to get her mind around fixing what he’d already done. Jasper’s writing showed how distracted he was, but also how academic and excited he was about the latest research emerging from the field.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Fred,” Arietta said, closing her laptop and leaning her head back. “But it’s fascinating. Maybe I owe it to myself to try.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. Arietta considered letting whoever had come go on their way. But when the doorbell rang again, she got up, hurried through the house, and opened the front door to find Hilary Salt standing there with a freshly baked blueberry pie in her hands. She smiled nervously behind herexpensive Dior sunglasses, and her sundress fluttered around her ankles.
“Oh. Hello,” Arietta said.
“Hi, Arietta,” Hilary said. “Can I come in for a moment? I won’t bother you for long.”
Arietta knew that Hilary was here to pester her about the blackmail. She knew Hilary was here to tell her to go to the cops. Maybe Hilary had already gone to the cops herself, sure that she was helping Arietta, despite Arietta’s certainty that she didn’t need it.
“All right,” Arietta said finally, opening the door so Hilary could come in.
“This is for you,” Hilary said. “I baked it myself. I hope it’s all right.”
Arietta accepted the blueberry pie, thanked Hilary, and told herself she could throw it out if she wanted to. (Then again, it looked so delicious that she couldn’t fathom doing that. It wouldn’t help anyone to throw it away, anyway, least of all herself.)
First, Arietta led Hilary to the veranda. “This is my husband, Fred,” Arietta said. She watched Hilary’s face intently. If Hilary showed any signs of shock at Fred’s appearance or disability, Arietta planned never to trust her again.
“Hi, Fred,” Hilary said brightly. “I’m Hilary Salt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Arietta nodded, grateful for Hilary’s humanity. All the tension spilled from her stomach. “We can talk in the kitchen,” she said. “Fred will be okay for a little while.”
In the kitchen, Arietta leaned against the counter and waited for Hilary to say what she’d come to say. Hilary pulled her sunglasses over her forehead and through her hair and sighed.